Maybe Tomorrow
by RitzBitz
Summary: Maura tends to obsess over details most would consider insignificant when it comes to Jane. This story analyzes one such moment, Jane's reaction to Maura sleeping in the nude, and follows the events of that evening. Rating for some language, mostly. Reference point from "If You Can't Stand the Heat."


Maybe Tomorrow

Maura tends to obsess over details most would consider insignificant when it comes to Jane. This story analyzes one such moment, Jane's reaction to Maura sleeping in the nude, and follows the events of that evening. Rating for some language, mostly. Reference point from "If You Can't Stand the Heat."

Stubborn heat slowed Boston to a crawl, crippling the normally bustling city. It was late in the summer, and Dr. Maura Isles had finally shut her windows and turned her air conditioning on as a favor to the one person in her life who could ask her to go against her patterns. Those patterns which normally kept Maura sane, kept her focused and ahead of any self doubts…somehow, illogically, Jane Rizzoli was capable of reversing all of those benefits.

Maura stood alone in her kitchen, high heels abandoned long ago, though she hadn't quite made it upstairs to change, opting instead to drink. Wine had become a kind of tool for the doctor. She had no doubt of her above average intelligence. Part of being intelligent was using the right tool for the current challenge. Wine was the right tool; Jane's flippant comments were the current challenge.

She needed a shower. Her perfume lingered still, but it had been transformed by the long day and her sweat. She felt ripe. Normally, Maura would have her windows as open as their design allowed, a privilege granted her by the elite location of her home in the occasionally dangerous metropolis.

Since Angela Rizzoli had moved into her guest house, Maura's habits had changed. She no longer spent the occasional evening at home in the nude, clothed solely in a pair of Jimmy Choos. However, she refused to give up her favorite bedtime summer ritual. She loved the summer breeze on her naked flesh, and had never felt the need to justify the habit to anyone before. It was liberating, and bold. And erotic.

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to a certain Italian.

"_I can regulate my own cortisol, thank you."_

Maura had felt her eyes narrow reflexively at Jane's comment. She had wanted Jane to expound.._._ what did her sleeping habits have to do with Jane's? _Not here,_ she thought self-consciously at the time._ Later._ She'd come to learn that Vince was one of her most perceptive coworkers. While she knew he wouldn't gossip about them, she instinctively needed to protect the delicate dream of her secret life with Jane Rizzoli. The fantasy could easily evaporate under the light of scrutiny. That meant no audience, wherever possible.

Alone now, the doctor contemplated Jane's wording. Had she meant to use those specific pronouns, that particular construction? _I can regulate my own cortisol… thank you…_ She brought the wine glass to her lips one last time when she heard a familiar knock at the front of her Beacon Hill sanctuary. Only one person had the audacity to call on her at such an unreasonable hour on a Thursday night.

"I didn't think you were serious about spending the night," the M.E. laughed as she cautiously opened the door just a crack, keeping the clammy/moist/glistening detective on the front porch.

"Well, as you can see, I was serious. I am serious. So, so serious." The doctor hesitated as Jane held up her pajamas. "Doctor Isles, I don't think I've ever been more serious about anything in my entire life. Please?" She was practically squirming.

Maura swung the door open and ushered her best friend inside. "That might be one of your most inaccurate declarations ever." She was rewarded with a coveted smirk, but Maura couldn't help an underhanded remark. She needed to provoke Jane- it was part of the formula. "I'm surprised Todd wasn't waiting outside for you to get here."

"Please. It's past his bedtime," Jane quipped, missing the doctor's intention entirely. "I mean it, Maura, no nudity tonight." She balled up the clothes she had brought and tossed the pajamas across the hall to her friend.

Maura simply watched the bland bundle fall to the floor at her feet. "Hm. We'll see." With that, she brushed past Jane and returned to her glass on the kitchen counter. "I was just having some wine; can I offer you anything?"

Jane scooped up her Boston P.D. t-shirt and shorts from the pristine hall runner. "Yeah," she muttered. "Uh… beer, please, or whatever you've got." Maura watched her swipe at her forehead, pushing back the damp pieces of hair that had gotten stuck there on the ride over. She was practically glowing with heat, and, who knows, maybe something else.

With a final glance back at her favorite detective, Maura pulled open the enormous refrigerator and plucked out a perfectly chilled IPA. "You're trying something different tonight, though. Sometimes I wonder if these distributors are using you as a spokesperson."

"I am a creature of habit, Maura Isles. You ought to know that by now." Jane took a seat at the counter. "Though tonight, I'm at your mercy. If that means a new beer, well, then… I'll just have to deal with that." She cracked the proffered beer open and took a sip.

Maura experienced that same familiar tug every time Jane looked at her with shining eyes, signaling that she had created an opportunity for their witty repartee. It felt like chess; the opening was there, and all she had to do was strike, subtly, building her strategy.

"Absolutely. And I expect you will enjoy every minute of being at my mercy."

Jane nursed her beer in response. When she had finally gulped it down, she said, "That's good shit." She sauntered over to the end of the couch and, looking back at Maura, she asked sweetly, "Coming?" Her eyes smoldered as she slipped back onto the cushions, determined to win this little game.

Maura watched as Jane made herself comfortable on her living room couch, arm swung behind the back of it, long legs crossed in the air, resting on the armrest. She watched as Jane swigged her beer once more, making impressive progress on it, even for her. She watched still as Jane sighed contentedly, vocalizing her satisfaction with Maura's beer selection, all without breaking her stare. Maura moved around the opposite end of the couch and perched in a way that forced Jane to crane and twist in order to maintain eye contact.

Finally, the detective laid back to look at Maura upside down, her head nearly in the doctor's lap. "You know I'm going to win this, Maura. No one has beaten me in a staring contest since Mikey Shea in the sixth grade. He had a disgusting booger that blew halfway out his nose right in the middle of it, though, so I know it was a fluke."

Maura leaned down so that her face was inches from the detective's deep brown eyes. She dropped her voice into a near purr. "First time for everything, Detective Rizzoli." She parted her lips seductively…and blew right in Jane's face, causing her to blink instinctively.

"Godamnit, Maura! That's cheating!" But Jane was laughing, so Maura knew she was off the hook. Jane swung her legs around so that she was sitting upright next to her best friend. She jabbed an accusing finger right at Maura's chest. "You're a fucking cheater, and I'm gonna tell everyone at the station."

"Jane, language! You admitted yourself that you were at my mercy this evening. And if you do tell anyone, I'll be sure to tell Todd that you were too nervous to approach him directly because of his raw manly pheromones, and that I am acting as your surrogate in asking him to dinner at an alcohol-free, all-vegan, all gluten-free restaurant." Another provocation.

"You wouldn't," growled the olive-skinned beauty, moving closer still.

"Wouldn't I? Do you want to find out?" Maura felt victorious as Jane slumped back against the couch. "I didn't think so." They both sipped in silence, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly. Maura glanced back at Jane, who looked like she was itching to have the last word. "Don't forget that I can turn that A/C off with just the touch of a button, and I have code for it, which means you'd have to work overtime on this sweltering Boston evening just to feel some relief."

Jane humphed unceremoniously, unused to being bested. "No way… I don't want to see you naked." She forced a laugh.

Maura flushed, embarrassed. She was sure that Jane had meant it as a joke, and positive that she must be overanalyzing these little moments. The comments, the seemingly meaningful glances, the lingering touches... she clearly had trouble gauging what normal "best friend" interaction included. At least in this case. She knew Jane had become aware of a change in her demeanor. She decided to demonstrate bravado to combat the blush she could feel seeping out on her chest… it was a trick she learned from the woman next to her.

"Oh Jane, we need you to be able to work tomorrow. I wouldn't sleep nude with you here for your own good." She punctuated it with a wink. Relief flooded in when Jane grinned in response, and she knew she had averted the unspoken questions in Jane's eyes.

This was dangerous territory, and the M.E. knew she was out of her league. It wasn't fair to project her own emotions onto Jane's participation in their playful banter. It wasn't fair to her, either.

Maura had once believed that her preoccupation with Jane would dissipate naturally the moment either of them became seriously romantically involved with someone else. She knew that workplace romances were often emotional, not physical. Through some course of action (unconscious perhaps, yet purposeful on her part), Maura spent most of her time with Jane, and it followed logically that she would develop a complicated attachment to the detective, especially given their highly charged work environment.

However, she learned painfully that her hypothesis was wrong. Casey had only made it harder for Maura to be around Jane. She thought for sure that she had ruined everything when coming clean about missing Jane. "_What would I do without my best friend?"_ she had asked Jane. She found it harder and harder not to feel bitter, and her own failed conquests only seemed to sharpen that bitterness. Her preoccupation turned to infatuation with each passing day.

Best friend. It wasn't fair.

Jane finished her beer and set it down hard on the coffee table. "What next, Dr. Isles?"

_What a question. _"Well, Detective Rizzoli, as a doctor I'd have to recommend a glass of water before bed, a good night's sleep and well balanced breakfast in the morning. All of which we can take care of, right here in the office." She knew they were back on track. "No more beer, okay?"

Jane pouted. Hard. "One more? Please? I can chug it, I promise."

Maura laughed, "That's a terrible idea, Jane. But you're a grown woman, you can do as you like." She laughed harder still at the bounding detective as she bounced over to the kitchen. _She'll want to impress me… she always does._

Sure enough, Jane insisted on chugging her beer. As she puffed out her chest and drank, Maura unexpectedly found herself thinking about what Constance would say about Jane's quirks. Rough, probably. Crude, even. She shook her head. Jane was the definition of opposite when it came to her upbringing. She was rough, and maybe even crude, and she was real and warm and beautiful and beautifully flawed and she loved Maura. She wanted to be around Maura, a mystery that always plagued the doctor.

She decided to be bold, and let the wine help her along. "Jane…"

"Hmm?" she mumbled, still chugging.

"Why are you here?"

Jane belched loudly and threw the bottle in the recycling bin. "What do you mean? I'm using you for your air conditioning. And as protection from Todd."

"No, I mean… why are we best friends? It's new for me, you know that." _Please believe this._ "I just want to know… why me?" It was a subtle manipulation, wrapped in the half-truth of vulnerability.

"Oh, okay. Well, um…" Jane made her way back to the couch and sat even closer than she had before. Maura noted Jane's crossed legs, angled toward her own. She saw, as if in a close up, Jane's callused index finger, resting gently just above the pulse point on her left wrist. She felt her own torso automatically lean in to mirror the detective's posture. "You're my best friend because… you put me at ease. You let me be exactly me, and nothing else. I'm chaos and you are calm. We…balance each other, don't you think?"

This time, Maura blushed uninhibited, but she didn't look away from Jane's warm chocolate eyes. It almost seemed that she wasn't saying everything she wanted to. She kept silent, secretly willing Jane to go on. Willing her to reveal the same rushing flood that Maura felt inside.

"And… and you make me happy to be around, you know? Like, just on a really simple level. Like, I don't have to think about it? It just fits, you know? I'm not saying this right," she babbled. "Almost like we already knew each other, I guess."

"No, Jane, I understand. Though our compatibility wasn't necessarily apparent on our first encounter, I, too, felt an immediate draw to you. I apologize, I shouldn't be putting you on the spot. Heat and alcohol aren't the best combination." She smiled genuinely at her friend, then stood and took their trash to the kitchen.

"No, but they certainly are fun. I'm buzzed as hell right now. You want to go streaking somewhere? I know how you like to be nude." She winked at Maura, leaning magnificently in the doorframe.

Maura couldn't resist as she brushed past the smirking detective. "You certainly have taken a great interest in my clothing. Or lack thereof, I should say. You should try it, Jane." She lingered in the other woman's personal space, just for a tantalizing moment. "What's the matter, afraid you'll never sleep with clothes on again?" She turned to go up the stairs.

"Ha! God, I wish that were a legitimate problem." Jane followed her up the stairs, grabbing her pajamas off the kitchen counter first.

Maura only smiled as she disappeared into her own room, secretly hoping that Jane would find an excuse, any reason at all, to see her one last time before bed, but knowing full well not to be disappointed if she didn't. Part of understanding her particular problem was knowing how to avoid the pain of Jane's disinterest.

She changed into cotton shorts and a tank top, hoping she wouldn't get too cold with the A/C on that night. Maura settled under her sheets and grabbed a medical journal off the nightstand. She glanced at the clock… twelve minutes had passed already. She had turned only one page in the journal, having read the same paragraph at least four times now.

Jane wasn't coming. And that would just have to be alright.

Just as she turned the lamp off, Maura heard a muffled, "Goodnight Doctor Isles!" from the guest bedroom.

"Sweet dreams, Detective Rizzoli," she offered in reply.

_Maybe I'll tell her tomorrow._ It was Maura's nighttime pattern, her bedtime mantra. _Maybe tomorrow._


End file.
